


Astraea

by Eyeslikechrome



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bara Sans, Big Sans, Dark, Depressed!Sans, Domination, Ecto-Tongue, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, M/M, Magic, Master/Slave, Possessive Sans, Slow Burn, Soul Melding, What Have I Done, but I am trying so bear with me, ecto lots of things, first person POV, i suck at it, just not with literal bears, making this shit up as I go, scifi, sinning, tiny oc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6237136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyeslikechrome/pseuds/Eyeslikechrome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[He looked down at me then, head and shoulders above me in height and his grin turned sinister. The lights in his eyes died and fear skittered down my spine like thousands of ants. </p><p>  "knock, knock," He said without opening his mouth, voice a deep, oddly musical baritone. Really? Was he seriously telling a knock knock joke?]</p><p>Set in a futurisic world dependent upon magic, in a time when war is threatening to overtake the world, a young woman struggles to rise to the challenge of becoming a sorceress with a summoned monster familiar at her side. Unfortunately, Sans may have a bone to pick with her for tearing him away from his world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. knock knock

Today is the day. Today HAS to be the day. In fact I am pretty sure that if things go south I can kiss my scholarship goodbye. And… by kiss it goodbye, I don’t mean in the “yay I graduated” sort of way, but rather more of the “being laughed out the front doors of the college by nearly every faculty member and student” sort of way. Yeah. No pressure. I swallow down the remaining tea from my far too large mug that is decorated with pictures of cute fluffy owls and head up to shower and dress. It’s four in the morning. Yes I know, I am well aware that all sensible, normal people are either sound asleep or just getting to bed at such an hour but I can’t sleep and lying in bed like a useless lump isn’t helping me at all. 

 

The shower feels nice, despite everything and feeling a little more alive, I slip into my robes. They are simple and gray, like every other student that has yet to be defined by class and less than flattering. I’d be lying if I said I like them. Shapeless, they drape down over my slight figure in a loose fall of heavy cloth that nearly brushes the ground even in my boots. I feel like I am wearing a tablecloth with sleeves. The high collar itches the back of my neck and even after almost four years of wearing it, it still bugs the crap out of me. I tried folding it down and ended up being written up for improper attire. Tch. It isn’t like the instructors don’t have anything more pressing to do or anything, oh no. 

 

I don’t even bother trying to mess with my hair other than tossing a little bit of product in it while it is still wet. My hair is long and tends to curl so brushing it usually only ends in a fro to end all fros. I do not have enough swagger to rock a fro. Elements willing, it will eventually dry into happy, thick, ringlet, curls and not frizz out like a poodle with its tail caught in a light socket. I am not holding my breath. Honestly, I am just distracting myself, or trying to and it really isn’t working. I’m so nervous that I am trembling already and I feel like my stomach is about to reject everything I’ve shoved into it during my anxious, stress induced, food binge the previous night. Not one of my better moments, but hey, cooking makes me feel better! And I can’t NOT eat what I make; that would be wasteful. 

 

So why am losing my cool and on the verge of projectile vomiting a half tray of brownies all over the communal dormitory bathroom? Well, I am a summoner. Or, I am supposed to be. No, I mean I will be. That’s right. Today, I am going to become a summoner and finally earn my place among the thousands of sorceresses that have gone before me. Determination shoves aside my worries and I cling to it for all I am worth. I am not going to fail this time. 

 

Moving stiffly with my toiletries in hand, I head back down the long, empty hallway of closed doors to my little single corner dorm room. I hate this hallway. It is as gray and lifeless as the robes. My dimly lit room is a wash of color, light, airy fabrics of warm colors hide the cold stone walls and make me feel a bit like I am stepping into a little tent. Hurrah for the wonders of double sided tape and clotheslines. Small and rectangular, the room is very minimalistic. You have to earn it if you want anything particularly nice in this place as far as rooms went. There is a small closet with a few copies of my robe and one or two regular outfits that I rarely get to wear. Mostly I use the closet as a storage for my collection of food and tea. A rather large desk takes up most of the corner beneath the shelf that houses my bed. It is littered with notes and textbooks, empty teacups and knicknacks. I like a little chaos in my work environment. 

 

 A small workbench takes up the other corner. It holds a few shelves for ingredients, and a little sink and cutting board. I use it for mixing my tonics and ointments needed for the rituals and spells I am expected to perfect and it has ended up being used more as an impromptu cooking station than anything else if I am being completely honest. The small window at the back of the room is open to let in the cool night air, my hanging baskets of various herbs and flowers filling the room with an earthy, natural scent. A microwave sits on top of my mini-fridge near the closet, some of the only modern things that I managed to drag with me when I came to the campus four years ago. The floor to ceiling bookshelf that dominated nearly an entire wall is crammed full with so many books that I've had to resort to stacking them in organized piles on the floor near it. I sighed softly and forced myself to calm down, to breathe. This place is my haven. It was the only place on campus that I didn't feel overly awkward. It isn't like I don't blend in with the others or anything; I am rather small.

 

 All children in Ebott are screened once a year from the time that they hit puberty for the magical gift. Most manifest around the age of fourteen. They are found and brought to learn about magic, lumped in with all of the undeveloped adolescents. Barely scraping five feet and flat as a board, I can easily be mistaken for one of them despite being twenty three years old. I wasn't discovered until I was nineteen. It isn't unheard of, just very, very rare. I had been living on my own in a shitty apartment above a little dinner that I worked at in the theater district because it was cheap and the only way to get by at the time. If I went a month without getting mugged or having to trade my wages for something to eat it was a miracle. It took getting attacked on my way back from the store for my magic to manifest and it did so violently. Two days after being released from the hospital, a dapper looking man in a set of white robes showed up at my door and informed me that I had been selected to attend the Sorcery Institute of Nether Studies to be trained as a Sorceress. The acronym had not been lost on me. I wonder if the college did it on purpose as a joke or not? 

 

 The college was wonderful. At first. I went through the same training as any new student. Despite my age, I knew absolutely nothing about magic and so I was placed with the other first years and treated no differently. Part of me appreciated it. The rest of me was moderately ashamed. But it was fun! I enjoyed the history, the reading and the work. My magic however, like all newly found gifted, left much to be desired. I couldn't call up nearly any of the power I had used to defend myself with, but I was aware of it being there. It drifted through my veins like a lazy fish, content to let the current take it wherever with no interest in doing anything overly stimulating. Blank. That is the title that the upperclassmen give all un classed gifted and it is fairly accurate if a bit mean. The college supports the title. We are seen as blank slates, clear of color or purpose with endless potential. 

 

 Usually by the end of their first year, a Blank completes a ritual trial to summon a familiar that defines their future and thus, is given a designation of the sort of mage they will be. Elementals, Healers, Diviners, Enchanters, the list goes on and each has it's own specialization. I hope to become a healer. I like helping people. But it isn't really up to me. I have been a Blank a total of four years, longer than any other student in the history of the college. I have completed the summoning ritual eighteen times since coming to the school and not once has a familiar responded. It has become a bit of a school sport for the other students. They show up to the ritual with betting pools for how long it takes for the ritual to fail and enjoy their free day from classes. The ritual traditionally calls for the attendance of the student’s peers and instructors. I often wish that it did not. Crowds and being in the spotlight makes me nervous and I can't stand the expressions of pity, amusement, and mockery on so many faces.

 But I still try. Each and every time that the head of the institute calls for a trial, I show up and try my very best regardless. He has much more faith in me than anyone, which is very strange. When I fail, he finds me here in my room, curled up in my nest of pillows and drags me out of my sadness with a stupid smile and a cheerful demand of "You can't give up! You have already gotten this far! Stay determined!" or something to that degree. Just thinking about it brings a reluctant smile to my face. He is such a goof for a man that is supposed to be some sort of all powerful super sorcerer. 

 

 Today is another chance. No! Today I WILL find my partner! I build myself up with all of the determination that I can muster and sling my bag over my shoulder and force myself out into the waiting world. 

 

  SINS sits on a series of floating, magically infused isles that revolve in a counterclockwise orbit around the peak of Mt Ebott, high above the sleepy city far below. The mountain and surrounding forest is a special place, protected and off limits to everyone because of the node of power that it naturally produces. Many mages have theorized that the node itself is what causes the magical gene in the humans in the area to manifest in the first place. Only approved visits to the sacred lands of the mountain are permitted and usually, those are only for funerals. Gifted go there to die. I have never been to a gifted funeral, but I've heard that they are beautiful, powerful things. The mage is lowered into the earth and the attending gifted weave joint spells over the grave, allowing for the deceased's mana and soul to become one with the energy of the mountain and to help protect and guide those left behind. It sounded beautiful and terrifying all at once. The land there is so infused with magic that the plants and creatures there seem to emit their own ethereal glow. I've seen pictures and video, but none of it in person. It isn't a place for a Blank. What I do get to see, however, is the sky.

 

The sky above Mt Ebott is the most beautiful sight in the whole world. I let my head tilt back to watch the twisting, shimmering glow of magic sweeping across the sea of stars. The northern lights have nothing on the lightshow that Ebott puts on every night. The sun is just beginning to kiss the lip of the sky with feathers of pink and gold and the lights this morning flicker and writhe in brilliant shades of cyan, indigo, and blue. The smile on my face nearly hurts from the sight and I blow the sky a kiss. It's wearing my favorite color. Today is going to be a good day.

 

 Feeling oddly cheerful, I head to the large structure situated on the northern end of the main isle. There aren't many ancient looking structures left from the original Institute, but the Calling Circle is definitely one of them. It looks like an ornate version of the Roman coliseum. It’s tall, with several swooping arches and statues of monsters and mages on every surface. Runes in the language of magic are carved into every inch of the old black stone and the whole thing reeks of energy. From the very beginning, it has been tradition for a magic user to find their familiar in its arena and to fight them into submission. I did not want to fight anyone, honestly. The idea of having to use my magic to overpower another being sounded horrific and terrible. I'd seen countless trials and each time, the gifted Blank would fight to survive in the arena against the monster they summoned. It didn't always turn out well.

 

 Many monsters turned to dust from an overzealous attack. Sometimes a human would be injured or killed. No one could interfere once it began. Nothing about the ritual was easy. I am not a violent person. In fact, violence terrifies me. I have no idea what I am going to do when my partner appears. If they attack... No. One thing at a time. Finding them is the first step. 

 

The interior of the arena is lit warmly with crackling torches that cast dark shadows on the large domed ceiling that was held up by golden monster statues. A massive stained glass skylight in the shape of the Delta Rune allowed the magically powered light above to bath the pristine white sand of the floor of the arena in a shifting aura that brings gooseflesh rolling down my arms. I want to paint this, I realize with no small amount of awe. The Circle is magnificent and terrible all in one. Rows upon rows of seats encircle the entirety of the sand filled stage with a raised dias for the heads of the college at the opposite of the main entrance. There were already many people moving about in the final stages of preparation. 

 

 " Hey, Blank, are you actually going to summon something for us or were we up all night doing this for nothing again?" One of the Ritual class snarked. Dressed in the royal purple hue, the Ritualists were occult specialists that relied on the powers of knowledge and intense preparation. Many of their spells were intricate and very powerful, some taking days to cast. As such, they were highly respected in the college and each time that a trial was called for, the Ritualists would prepare the arena to better hone their craft. I could understand their displeasure.

 

 "Well at least you get to practice your craft more, right?" I replied with a smile that pulled a grumble from the tall young man. Internally I was cringing. 

 

 "Maybe if we are lucky, she'll summon something and the monster will eat her and put us out of our misery!" Another laughed from the group that had taken up lounging in the stands after a long night. I ignored the way that their laughter tore at something deep inside of me and my smile brightened further, giggling softly with the group's jeers. 

 

 " I dunno, I am pretty rotten, I wouldn't want to give the poor thing indigestion!" I joked and the laughed with me this time. The familiars that clustered not far from their partners however, did not laugh. They weren't fooled by my false cheer. None of them ever were. It's said that a monster can see your soul. They can see the color of your true self through all of the layers of flesh and bone and see what you really are. I wonder what they see inside of me that makes them so utterly sad. 

 

 Trembling and hoping that no one can see it, I shrug off my satchel and kneel over a large rune embedded in the stone at the edge of the circle of sand. The open area is easily the size of a football field but perfectly circular and not a single grain of sand is misplaced, save for the painstakingly drawn lines that encircle the entire circumference of it. Despite their cynicism, I am grateful for their hard work. With shaking hands, I slip out two jars from my bag and my spell tome, followed by an ornate dagger and place them carefully before myself. I roll up my sleeves to my elbows and then rest my hands on my knees. It is still early and I need to center myself. 

 

  My anxiety bubbles up in me and it takes me several long moments of forcing myself to breathe to hear past the hammering of my own heart and the chattering of the students that have begun to trickle into the arena seats. I look for the soft, faint hum that is my magic and find it hiding deep inside of the recesses of my mind, flickering like a fragile candle. The magic is gentle, soft, and so very small, but it is mine. Mentally, I craddle it close, crooning to it like one would a wild animal and it swims down my veins to settle beneath my fingertips in a tickling tingle. It is a welcome feeling, though a little uncomfortable but I hold onto it with all I have.

 

  " Esther Astraea, you have been called to the Circle to summon a monster and bind it to your will. You have thirteen hours with which to complete this trial. Once the trial begins, you will be on your own, no matter what comes. Are you prepared to risk your life to find your partner?" The magically enhanced voice of the director of SINS makes me jump and I jerk from my meditations to look up at his familiar figure seated on the dias with the other leaders of the college. All of them look serious and stern. I swallow down my terror. 

 

 "Yes." I answer firmly and watch as his ageless face softens into a proud sort of expression that lifts my lips into a small smile. A pregnant pause fills the room. I must have been reaching for my magic for a long time because the sun is bright and the arena is packed to the brim. 

 

 "Very well. Begin!" And just like that, the trial starts. I breathe deeply and smooth my fingers over the simple spell tome that I had place before my knees. Most people have fairly ornate books, decorated with runes and precious metals or gems, fine cloth and symbols of the user's power. Spell tomes are often inherited and passed down from family members or mentors. Mine is anything but fancy. Solid black with no real decoration or anything noteworthy about it, my tome looks like a thick journal rather than a spell book. The leather cover is warm and smooth and habitually, I settle my palms over its cover. 

 

 My grandmother was a sorceress, the only one in my family. When I was eight years old, she died and was buried on the mountain. She left her tome to me. I think that she knew all along that I was gifted. This book is the only thing of real value that I own. It is simple yes, but to me, it is beautiful. I open to the marked page and roll my eyes over the intricate and painstakingly written spell. I had spent three days straight writing it over and over before putting it into the book. My calloused hands unscrew the lid to the first jar that was filled with a pale purple ointment. It smelt strongly of lavender and springtime and I lifted it to my face to breath in the comforting scent that chased away my remaining doubts. I had all of the time in the world. 

 

 " I paint myself with thee to focus my mind and to guard my soul from the trial to come," I whisper my intent across the opening before returning it to where I sat it in the first place, dipping three fingers of my left hand into the magically infused lotion. It was cool and thick but soothing and I rubbed it into my chest over my heart generously. My skin warmed under the substance, but not uncomfortably. Next, I opened the second jar. This jar was smaller and the sharp, bitter scent of it's contents had me involuntarily scrunching my nose. It was strong with an after thought of heady flowers. Belladonna, sage, tansy, and yarrow, among other ingredients folded into pig fat until it was thick and cloying, the greenish salve radiating faintly even in the morning light. It was poisonous to anyone that didn't know what they were doing and could be dangerous even to those who did. Like with the first jar, I raised it close to my face, not inhaling the scent of it and doing my best to remain calm as I invoked the next part of the ritual. 

 

" I anoint my brow with thee to let my soul travel beyond myself to find my partner in the beyond and bring them back with me," I murmured, feeling my determination strengthening the feel of my magic coursing through my blood. With the tip of my dagger, I scooped out a pea sized dab of the mixture and smeared it across the center of my forehead. The glowing line of salve faded into my skin gradually and I now had to work quickly before the ointment took effect. Magic hummed in my fingertips brighter and stronger than I could ever remember. My skin felt hypersensitive to it and the energy swam over me in an electric current. The side of the dagger bit into the meat of my right arm shallowly and the magic flared, pulsing in time with my steady heartbeat. I felt calm, certain, as though everything was right with the world and that all I needed to do was let the magic lead the way. I didn't question it. 

 

 With slow, practiced movements, I bathed both sides of the dagger in my blood until the metal gleamed red. If the cut hurt, I couldn't feel it, so caught up in the spell I was. Words in a language older than anything human or mortal poured from my lips like a song, my voice flowing with purpose and a melody that only I could hear. The tome before me shuddered like something alive and the words lit up like stars on the dark pages, sucking the light from the room. On the final syllable, I slammed the dagger point down with feeling into the empty space between the runes drawn in the sand like jamming a key into a lock. The marks in the sand all the way around the circle shimmered as they filled with magic; my magic, and the air grew thick with it. Wind roared through the open room and I think that there was shouting from somewhere. I am unsure. It doesn't matter now. No, only the magic matters. I feel myself stand and the tome floats up with me, hovering in starlight at my side. 

 

 Usually, the ritual would have failed by now. The magic would have died and the call would never be heard. Now, the sand blazed with glowing light and I stepped through into the circle. My footsteps didn't so much as shift the pulsing sand that glowed beneath me and I walked until I stood at its epicenter. My hair and robes billowed out from me from the force of the energy whipping around the room and I smiled at the tugging on my chest. My soul. The ointment made me sensitive and a little bit dizzy, distracting my mind and drawing out my soul from deep inside. A perfect, little, heart that shimmered with a pearlescent luminescence escaped from my chest and I watched it with a mixture of awe and surprise. It was so delicate looking, but lovely. I've seen quite a few souls but never my own. It shifted with a kaleidoscope of pastel hues like the rainbow of colors you see in puddles on driveways after a rain from the oil and gasoline gathered there. That pretty silver-white color shone over all of that, a white opal, and I tentatively reached out to cup it in my hands with tears in my eyes. 

 

 It was so warm! But it was lonely and so very sad. With every part of me I reached out. Please, let me meet you, at last!  For what seemed like a small eternity I called with my magic, reaching out for my partner. I lost myself as my soul vanished into the spell, slipping into that other world. Images passed through my mind and a feeling of flying. Snow and a happy little town nestled into a valley sped below me in a blur. And then I felt something familiar. Hopelessness, dread, isolation, and anger, a soul crying out for something, anything to change the endlessness. And yet as I drew closer, I could feel love and affection, a protective, brotherly warmth that tightened my throat. My soul shuddered and reached out to that soul that seemed both dim and so very bright all at once. There you are!

 

 There was a scream of terror and rage that startled me back to my body. Wide eyed, I blinked up at the blinding blue light that filled the arena before me. His screams stopped the moment he manifested fully and the concussion of power knocked me flat on my ass ungracefully. Panting from the strain of the spell and shaking like a leaf, I let my eyes adjust to the now dark room that was lit with the torches that had turned cyan blue with his arrival. My gaze landed on a large, broad figure that stood casually in front of me, hands in the pockets of an oversized, blue, hooded sweater. Baggy, black track shorts fell to about knee length on him and of all things, pink fuzzy house slippers covered his feet. A skeleton. A really large, chubby skeleton with a too wide smile and white pinpricks for eyes glanced about the arena with a carefree sort of nonchalance that should have been impossible and that was the exact opposite of the enraged cry he’d let out when I'd touched him. 

 

  He looked down at me then, head and shoulders above me in height and his grin turned sinister. The lights in his eyes died and fear skittered down my spine like thousands of ants. 

 

 "knock, knock," He said without opening his mouth, voice a deep, oddly musical baritone. Really? Was he seriously telling a knock knock joke?

 

 "W-who's there?" I ask tentatively. 

 

 "boo," He replies cheerfully despite the foreboding in the air. I am too flabbergasted to do anything but gape at him unintelligently. 

 

 "Boo, who?" I ask to continue the joke and he chuckles dangerously. 

  
 " aw, don't worry pal, I'll give you plenty to cry about in a sec," He finishes in a cheerful tone that is anything but reassuring. And then his left eye blazes with magic, shifting wildly with blues and yellows. His mouth parts to show off wicked looking fangs and a glowing blue tongue that runs along the points of his teeth in a sinful way that had odd feelings curling in my gut. His voice drops a few octaves and rumbles with a dark promise that should have terrified me utterly, " y o u ' r e  a b o u t  t o  h a v e  a  b a d  t i m e."


	2. heart to heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody's got some 'splainin' to do! 
> 
> Have another chapter. Because I have no self control.

***h e a r t  t o  h e a r t**

 

 

     There is a roar of heat and energy; snap, pop, whoosh, and an internal need to move has me throwing myself to the side. Sand explodes and a painful light flashes red hot behind my closed eyelids. The sound of that ringing roar echos like the clap of a jet engine or a dragon in my ears and stiffly I reopen my eyes to look back at the spot I had been sprawled in. A startled cry falls from my parted lips and I back further away for all the good it will do me. HOLY FUCK! A huge, blackened circled is all that remains of the sand there, chunks of blue tinged glass jutting out away from the divot in angry, twisted shapes.

    My heart has crawled up my throat and is running like a terrified rabbit and wide eyed I look up at the hovering monstrosity that stared down at me with hunger and glee. A skull the size of a minivan floated there looking draconic and positively wicked, humming with the energy that the skeleton controlled. He summoned that!? I'd never heard of a monster that could summon other monsters. What in the fuck!?

    "heh. what's wrong kid? can't handle the heat?" The monster asked with malice on his smiling features. Three more of those monstrous skulls manifested out of distortions in the air, more of that brilliant blue energy forming between their jaws as they hovered in a loose circle around me. I screamed when they didn't hesitate to fire, clenching my eyes tight and bracing myself for pain and something in my chest clicked. Suddenly I wasn't where I had been half a second ago and I felt the backlash of heat from the attack from across the other side of the arena, the wind of it disturbing the sand and shaking the room. My limbs crackled with residual energy, silver flickers, distortions of light danced over the outline of my body and shakily I look wiggled my fingers in front of my eyes in awe. Did I just...teleport!?

    "well, well, look at you," The big guy seemed surprised, if not impressed, eyes crinkling at the edges. More shimmers in the air wavered here and there like heat over a too hot side walk in summertime and more of the big floating skulls phased into existence.

    "Oh come ooooon!" I groaned, momentary triumph slipping from my fingers in despair.

    "you were looking a little bonely, pal. thought that i'd bring some friends," The skeleton cackled and I tried to replicate the feeling as the blasters powered up. I hopped to one side, barely avoiding a beam to my right, twisting sharply to dodge another from my left. The skulls were on all sides of me and with another shriek, I felt that heart stopping crack in my heart again, as though it had skipped a few beats and my insides were being pulled at lightning speed through a straw. One moment I was in front of a lazer and the next, I was safe, relatively speaking. I felt cold and shaky, my knees trembling and struggling to hold my body weight. As soon as I had re appeared the skulls were lining up on me again, looking both delighted and eager. This is ridiculous!

    Sweat beaded up on my forehead and I blinked across the arena again, this time, not needing the fear to prompt me. I was getting the hang of it. Again and again I teleported from place to place and skulls followed me under the skeleton's direction. A blast hits a scarce few inches from where I reappeared and I know that I am in trouble. He is anticipating my movements, herding me, using the skulls to line up a shot. Fuck. He guided the big skulls with lazy sweeps of his hands like an orchestra director and had the look of someone that could keep doing this all day. I am boned.

    "Please, wait! J-just hear me out!" I shouted between hops, trying to mix them up more and trick him into misfiring.

    "sorry, kid! don't have the ears for it!" He retorted and I groaned both from the joke and the monster's stubbornness. I was getting tired. My body screamed at me after each hop and he could tell I was wearing myself out. Panic was building in my gut and a surprised cry ripped its way out of my throat when something sharp sliced my shoulder open. I didn't have time to think about it with a blaster opening its big, fanged, mouth a foot from my face and teleported again, landing on top of one of the skulls and blinking to the other side of the room behind the skeleton. The left sleeve of my uniform was dangling by tiny threads, blood rolling down my too pale skin in a hot gush. A wide gash looked back up at me, all red and angry and my throat constricts, trying to swallow down the terror, the desire to sob. It burns! Movement out of the corner of my eye has me diving into a roll and jerking about. Those were...bones? Wicked and sharp and terrifyingly accurate, the projectiles speared the spot I had been in like grotesque trees. They were thick and tall, definitely not human. I don't think that I have a single bone in my body that size.

    He was going to kill me. It was that simple. I turn my eyes to him, completely horrified. If my fear bothered him, I couldn't tell. He seems to be having fun, actually. And then my eyes caught on something in the center of his chest. It glowed faintly, shining through the fabric of his hoodie. An inverted heart. His soul? I swallow and dodge more of the bones and blasters, trying to get a better look. My arm has gone numb and cold but suddenly, that doesn't seem to matter anymore. His soul is sad, afraid, even, and that tugs on things inside of my own that I can't explain. This is the same soul I had seen when mine sought out my partner. He is scared and resigned, determined to kill the demon that had torn him from his world without warning. Oh. Another cut forms on my cheek from a bone that had come a little too close, but I press on, feeling my magic pulse and hum with purpose.

    My book appears at my side and before I can consider it, I draw a spell from it, one I'd only glanced at in passing. A buzz fills the air with static and I focus on him intently, on his soul. Brilliant light that matches the color of my soul, white and shifting with gradients of color encase him and he goes rigid. Terror crosses his previously calm exterior and his eye blazes with his magic. He couldn't move, couldn't react. His figure shook with the effort he was putting into moving, defending himself, but the magic held him fast. I avoid the blasters that rush to strike me down in their master's stead , moving ever closer in jarring flashes of light that blink around the arena.

And then I collide with his hard body, arms wrapping around his rib cage and fingers clinging to the thick fabric of the worn sweatshirt. He stiffens further and the air fillswith screeching protests from the creatures that he had summoned. Panting and sweating, I bury my face in his chest, drawing in deep breathes of his scent that is heady with ozone and something masculine. He smells like a thunderstorm.

    "I am sorry," I murmur into him and I have no idea if he can hear me or not. My heart races in my ears over the gentle hum of my magic, " I am so, so sorry. I looked for you for so long and I didn't even stop to wonder if you were looking for me too. I'm so selfish. SO stupid."

    Everything hurts, but nothing more than my heart does. My head spins from a combination of blood loss and the energy I've used up and I know that I am crying like a baby. I don't want to hurt him; can't hurt him anymore than I already have. He had a life, wasn't happy there, but I had torn him from whatever he had loved without a care for his feelings or fears. I'm no better than anyone else in this room. Every single one of us called a monster from the beyond without even asking if they wanted to be here. This felt wrong.

    "you humans take and take and toy with us like we don't matter, why should I care about your pathetic apology? it doesn't c h a n g e a n y t h i n g!" The monster growls under my hands and I force myself to look up at his too black eyes, voids that drew in the light from the magic of the circle and I nod.

    "You're right, it doesn't," I agree and he hesitates, suddenly unsure, " Help me change it."

    He stared at me as if I had grown a second head, that fixed grin on his face wilting in confusion as his brow bones draw together. His face is fascinating to watch. It is surprisingly expressive for a skull.

    "what are you asking?" The skeleton presses, still in the effects of the spell.

    "Show me how to fix this. Be my partner," I said and he scoffs, his face flushing with blue that I didn't quite understand.

    "you don't know what you are talking about, kid," He laughes bitterly and my face scrunches in irritation.

    "I'm not a kid! And yes, I do know what I am talking about, bonehead, I am serious!" I hiss and his eye lit up with energy again. He was quiet for a long moment, thinking. There is a pop of sound and an undignified sound jerks from me when skeletal hands dug into my waist and easily lift me up to eye level with the monster.

    "you'll give me your soul? every inch of you? you won't age, you won't find someone to have a family with, you'll belong to me for eternity. eternity is a long time, kid. trust me," He suddenly seems so old, so tired, like he's lived a hundred lifetimes and seen far too much. My heart clenches painfully. I know what I felt when I'd touched his soul, when I'd found him. He was so alone, so very sad and drifting along, wasting away. Like me. My hands shake more than I would have liked and I place them on either side of his face and he flinches like I'd slapped him.

    "Only if you give me yours," I answer and he huffs out a breath that sounds like a chuckle and there is suddenly a tug deep in my chest. A full body shiver rolls over me as my soul floats free from my chest once again. His hands lower me to my feet , entranced by the pulsing little heart that shone a hundred times brighter than it had the last time I'd seen it. He runs a gentle, boney finger over it and I gasped. Heat rushed to my cheeks and other places and my mouth dropped open in shock. Suddenly, I can't feel my wounds, the room, the hammering of my heart in my chest or even the empty hole where my soul was supposed to be. I could only focus on that large finger that stroked over my soul as though it were a kitten and I sucked in a shaky, breath and held back a moan at the sensation. What in the hell was that?

    "you are sure about this?" He asked, and I suddenly understood why he was blushing. This was nothing like I had expected, though I wasn't exactly following the rules. I swallowed thickly and nodded. He growled, "say it!"

    "Yes! I am sure! Take it and help me do better or kill me and return home. Things are never going to change if we don't do something," I state firmly, instinctively feeling that we were running out of time. His smile was genuine then and god was it wonderful to see, especially compared to the terrifying face he'd worn for most of their encounter. He makes a little gesture at his own chest and the soul that I'd faintly glimpsed in that big chest of his slowly rises out from the depths of him. It is dark and calm, inverted and large. The colors shift with tranquil indigo and blues, the edges gleaming with cyan. I didn't realize that I am smiling like an idiot until he makes a soft sound of embarrassment.

    "what?" He asks, unsure. Was he ashamed of his soul? Fresh tears burn my eyes and I give a watery laugh, my hands raising to gently cup the beautiful soul. He lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping under the sensation. It is cool and fierce and flutters against my fingertips like a trapped bird.

    "You're my favorite color," I breathe and his blush deepens, sweat beading up on his skull. It is fucking adorable. I wasn't sure what to do next. Normally, a mage would pull the soul from a monster and bind it to their spell book. It was a very one sided relationship that I had always questioned. The big monster let out a purring rumble that had me shivering softly and of their own accord, the souls passed each other. I watch his face until the sensation of his soul pressing against my chest stole the breath from my lungs and clench my eyes shut. Oh! Is was like being submerged in cool water, like a summer rainshower but also burning, tingling and this time I did moan. Lightning lances up and down my spine and he seems to be in a similar state. He wheezes heavily, dropping a hand to my shoulder as he falls to his knees in front of me. It is overwhelming and I cling to him for balance, trying to get used to the feeling of that too big soul settling around my heart.

    My magic flows around it and through it and I can feel my own soul filling with his. The sensation is intimate and powerful. I can't get enough air, can't stop my heart from beating too fast. It is too much, but not enough and I whimper out a keening sound between pain and pleasure that he echos in his deep voice. It is going to take time to adjust to the feeling, that is for sure. He stands after a long moment, touching his chest above my soul thoughtfully before the room goes black and I am falling, falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops?


	3. misconceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstanding on both sides, our duo make some startling realizations that shatter both of their worlds.

*m i s c o n c e p t i o n s

 

I dream of...odd things. Snow and stars, spaghetti and ketchup. Flickers of memories dance through my restless mind of places I've never been and I cling to the oddness, the strange feeling that I should know these things, these faces and scents and sights. And then I hear a hissing static, a warbling, harsh voice that is distorted and multi-layered. A dark, darker, but darker sound that has me snapping awake on a panicked gasp.

I wake to yelling and the muffled wooshing of spells crashing against something nearby. The light is dim, stained blue and it takes a little while for me to orient myself and figure out where I am. Fabric pools loosely all around me and something firm and warm cradles me close, tucking me against cloth covered ribs like a child. He's pulled me inside of his hoodie, zipped it shut over the both of us so that I am hidden from the world and whatever is happening. The silvery glow of my soul in his chest is frantic, pulsing rapidly with my heartbeat that flutters with fear and confusion. My arm aches with a painful throb and everything is sore. The monster's soul in my chest is also uneasy, but nowhere near as riled. He's keeping himself calm, as grounded as he can, considering the situation. He's doing it for me.

A stupid, helpless smile tugs at my lips and I nuzzle my face into his chest that warms even more. He rumbled out a purring sort of rumble that sounds a bit like an organic diesel engine and I shift in his arms that are hooked under my legs. Peering up at him through the v of fabric at his neck, he looks placid at first glance, save for the flashes of color dancing away from his left eye. He held me while I was unconscious, kept me safe and supported despite everything and even now he was protectively staring out at what was doubtlessly the rest of the world. The poor guy had to be feeling overwhelmed too. It wasn't fair that I got to pass out like a damsel in distress and he had to stand there and deal with it.

"What happened?" I slurred out weakly, still groggy and weak. He glanced down at me, smile strained.

" you used a lot of magic in a short time, kid. and from the look of that arm, too much blood. toss in the shock of taking my soul into you and your body couldn't handle the strain," The skeleton tallied up softly, not fully looking away from whatever was happening beyond the ritual wall. He was so tense, I could feel it in his soul even if he was trying to hide it. Fear.

"Hey, big guy," I drawled out. I felt drunk and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. He made an inquisitive hum and laughing lamely, I wheezed out," Why didn't the skeleton get to ride his bike?"

"why, kid?" He asked, brow bones lifting in amusement, doubtlessly because I had a tendency to laugh at my own jokes, usually before the punchline even happened.

"It was two tired," I snickered and his body shook with chuckles that made my smile even bigger. His big free hand slipped inside of the sweater to ruffle my mop of hair roughly. The bones felt hard, but comforting all at once, despite the pounding head ache in the back of my skull. "What is going on?"

"When you called me up here, I didn't realize that we had such a big audience. They have been trying to break down the barrier you put up for about two hours now," I blinked owlishly at him. Barrier? I didn't know how to make barriers. Barriers were rare, high level spells that few people could conjure. The monster was watching me with an intensity that felt accusatory. I didn't like it one bit.

" Let me see, " I squirmed to move out of his embrace and a blinding pain ripped through my shoulder. A sharp hiss left my gritted teeth and he held me a bit more firmly.

" hey now, don't get too worked up. i just managed to get it to stop bleeding," He chides, unzipping the sweater enough to let me look out. My eyes hurt, temporarily blinded by the bright lights beyond my safe, makeshift, tent. I blink back the blurry haze and just stare. It's like the Apocalypse has decided to happen while I was cocooned inside of my familiar's hoodie. Absolute chaos is being rained down upon was appears to be a faintly glowing wall of light that encased the two of us in a fairly large bubble. It is roughly about forty feet in diameter and shimmers with the same opal hue as my soul, though each time a spell strikes it, it crackles with the skeleton's angry blue fire. It reminds me of an over-sized bug zapper. The big guy has me cradled in one of his boney arms that is shoved in the pocket of his hoodie as he reclines pretty lazily on the sand.

"Whoa," I say lamely.

"yep," He returns.

We stare silently at the mess for a long time and it occurs to me that I don't even know his name.

"I'm Esther, by the way. Most people call me Strange, though." I state. Strange has been my nickname since grade school. It is meant as an insult really, but I've learned that just rolling with it takes the strength out of most bad things. How'd I end up with that? You try teaching a group of five year olds how to pronounce my last name. Of all of the variations, strange is the kindest. Ester Astraea. It would be perfect for a super hero name. Or a stripper. Maybe.

" sans. sans the skeleton," He replies with a crooked tilt to his grin. This whole thing is entirely too surreal.

"Comic Sans?" I ask, unable to stop my amused grin and he chuckles under me.

" i am a pretty punny guy," Sans says and it hurts to laugh, but I can't help it.

"I didn't do that. I can't make barriers," Is my reluctant observation as I gesture to the singing barrier around us. And it's true. " Hell, I can't even do basic charms or well, any magic at all even on a good day."

"must be a pretty fantastic day then, sparkles, because this isn't my handiwork," he retorts skeptically. I have a funny thought and it is too corny not to share, my protesting body shaking with quiet laughter.

"I'd call it a San-sational day," His bark of laughter is worth it. He has a nice laugh, full, raucous, infectious.

"a strangely sansational day," Sans adds and I snicker against his ribs like a ten year old. It's nice to be easily amused. We both sober up pretty quickly though as another volley of magic strikes the barrier. The people on the outside appear to be testing it. What exactly do they think is happening in here? The barrier is hazy, and prevents any real vision through it. We can make out shapes beyond it but nothing concrete. I am sure that it is the same or worse for the people outside.

"I am afraid to take it down," I admit and he shifts uncomfortably.

"you aren't the only one," He agrees, " but your arm needs looked at. i'm no healer."

I sigh. He's right, of course. My fingers curl in the soft black t shirt he is wearing and determination flares inside of me. Whatever happens next, I won't let them harm my partner. None of this is his fault. I was the weak one that couldn't follow the rules. His hold tightens on me and his soul in my chest pulses almost painfully.

"hey. what's wrong?" Sans asks, clearly able to feel my twisting emotions, my resolve. It is both unnerving and oddly comforting that we can feel some of what the other is feeling. I have a sinking suspicion that it's going to bite me in the ass one day.

"Nothing. Just...they aren't going to be happy with me. I sort of did something taboo," I answer hesitantly and suddenly I have his full attention. I can feel his burning curiosity like a cattle prod and I grimace.

" I was supposed to take your soul with my book, make you into a power source," I reluctantly inform him. It isn't something I am proud of and he tenses almost violently. The soul in my chest throbs angry then terrified, the angry again. He looks so utterly mortified that I can't look at him anymore and stare at my soul that I can barely see under his shirt, " magical humans use it as a rite of passage."

"that is why humans take us?" His voice is soft and filled with so much disbelief. He hadn't known and the pain in his voice is killing me. Suddenly he is angry again, more angry than I'd seen him so far. His magic burns through my soul like a hot iron and I writhe in his grasp and a firm skeletal hand forces my chin up, forces me to meet his blazing eye and frown " why didn't you do it? you had me. you could have taken anything from me."

"I don't want to hurt you," I answer truthfully and he scoffs, disbelieving. He can feel my soul, I know he can tell I am not lying. His eyes fade to dull pin pricks of light, suddenly heart-breakingly sad. I scramble to explain, to erase that acute misery, " I thought that I could even the playing field, that if I had to, I could spare you somehow, let you go back if it didn't work."

"kid... you killed me. there isn't anything to go back to." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. That happened. gg wp, Esther. This is a short one because I have to break up the next bit and this is a pretty significant conversation for them. Next up, they will have to face the College outside of the bubble -dramatic reverb- Thank you so much for the support you have all been giving me for this story. I was pretty unsure of how well this was going to turn out or be received, honestly and was mostly writing it to satisfy my need to get it onto paper (proverbially speaking). I promise, things will get better for them! And worse. But then better again!


	4. *boned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ass deep in alligators is an understatement.

***b o n e d**

 

 My brain can't wrap around what has just come out of his mouth. What? It didn't make sense. He was right here, arms curled solidly around me. He had a body and the cut on my shoulder certainly proved that he wasn't an illusion or hallucination. What in the heck did he mean that there wasn't anything to go back to? He takes one look at my baffled face and sighs. 

 "later, kid. we'll have a nice, long talk about it later. first, them," Sans relents, obviously more than ready to be out of here. I nod because what else am I supposed to do? I couldn't have killed him. I can't kill people! Hell, I can't even kill spiders that wander into places they shouldn't be, startling or no. I feel like puking again but I focus. Now isn't the time and I am beginning to get used to the fact that Sans is probably right a lot. First, them. Clinging to him when he stands, I swallow back the painful sounds that try to claw their way up from my throat at the movement. My discomfort suddenly seems petty and insignificant in the wake of the skeleton's suggestion. If Sans notices, he doesn't say anything about it. 

 

I turn my attention to the barrier that pleasantly shimmers back at us, completely unaffected by the various magic being thrown at it. Neat. Now what in the fuck am I supposed to do with it? I don't remember making it, don't recall what happened in the final seconds before I passed out and that is worrisome. Accidental magic can be dangerous and honestly, I don't know if I can take it back. The little that I know about barriers is that they need to be sustained by something and that generally, it takes a fair bit of effort and energy to power them. I can feel Sans' soul beating unhappily. The barrier bothers him. Alot. I have no idea why it does. It's protecting us, isn't it? 

 

 Sans stays a decent distance from it, almost as though he is afraid of it biting him and honestly, I don’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already is. I want this to work. I want to be his partner and to do that, I need to show him that I am serious about us being on equal footing and that I care about how he feels. And I do care, oddly enough. 

 

“Can you put me down? I need to look at it closer,” I begin and he reluctantly unzips the hoodie the rest of the way and settles me shakily on my feet. The room spins wildly and I latch onto his forearm, swaying dizzily back against his solid chest with an unhappy sound that is a cross between a dying cat and a frog. 

 

“c’mon kid, no need to fall for me, already,” He joked but I can feel the thread of concern that singes my nerves. An odd twist of warmth flutters through my belly. Even if he doesn’t want to, he cares already about my wellbeing and that is both humbling and slightly scary. 

 

“Hah, what can I say, you’ve stolen my heart, big guy,” I slurred with a weak chuckle and a gesture to the heart shaped glow under his shirt. He makes a soft huff of a laugh as he steadies me. Everything seems a bit disconnected, like I am not fully in my body, but I imagine that is because of the blood loss. Speaking of. I glance down at the wound on my shoulder and what little color I had left drains from my face. The wound is much larger than I had anticipated, It slices down to the bone through tissue and skin at an angle through the meat of my shoulder muscle and across my collar bone, tapering off at my upper arm. Oddly enough, the wound is clean of blood and that doesn’t seem right. I can SEE the clean, perfect white of my clavicle. There should be blood! Right? 

 

Bewildered and unable to get my brain to work, I look up at Sans in confusion. His face has taken on a pretty shade of cerulean around his cheeks, or cheekbones, I suppose and he looks anywhere but at my face. Huh. I am no expert on monster or skeletal facial expressions but he looks bashful? Embarrassed maybe? And then a big, glowing, slightly transparent, blue tongue swipes over his teeth and I suddenly feel like sinking into the dirt to hide. He licked my wound clean. Oh. My. God. 

 I tend to be morbidly curious about most things, so I can’t help but ask. 

 

“ How didn’t you stop the bleeding without it clotting?” I ask, pointedly not mentioning the glowing blue anomaly that was responsible for our mutual mortification. 

 

“i can’t heal things, like I said, but I am telekinetic. i am holding it back with magic,” He confessed and I can only stare at him in awe. 

 

“You can do that? Just...think it in place?” Is my stupid summary and he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, the magic of his eye still flickering like a lazy flame around his socket. 

 

“bit more to it than that, but yeah. dunno how much longer I can do it though,” He confirms with an edge of warning. I try to ignore the flush on my cheeks and my excitement over how cool my partner’s magic is and make myself take a few steps to the barrier. Tentatively, I reach out to it, and feel more than see Sans tensing tighter than a bowstring. It is warm, pulsing, shifting, fluttering against my palm like something alive and serene and my fingers trace the swirling patterns of white light that lazily dance across its surface. Like brush strokes. Swirling, changing brushstrokes. I can’t keep the wonder and excitement from my face. 

 

“It’s a painting,” I breathe on a rush of air. My dorm room is littered in paintings of a similar nature. Complex, twisting, graceful lines in various colors that I have always habitually drawn during moments of stress or boredom. It was like looking at overly detailed henna tattoos made out of starlight that shifted under my fingertips like playful cats. My magic. For so long I had wondered what my magic looked like, felt like and it had been right in front of me the whole time. I couldn’t stop the giddy laugh that escaped me. I was an idiot. 

 

But how to put it away? The image was seamless, elegant, a complete picture of motion. Experimentally, I reached out for my magic inside, called to it and it came to me easily, eagerly, needy in its pressure under my fingertips. I called the lines, pulling them from the canvas like erasing a drawing and the spiraling markings resisted, but only for a moment. They danced up my arms from the barrier that faded more and more at their retreat. My arms glowed with the designs, the pattern rising to cover all of my skin with the prismatic light. It tingled, especially over the wound on my shoulder and even more so around the cavity that San’s soul rested in like a panicking bird in a cage. Poor guy. 

Warmth and light and the gentle calm of my magic kept me from being afraid. This is mine and we have no reason to be afraid. 

 

The air shimmered and with a soft pop, the barrier was gone. A deafening silence fills my ears and I swallow around the dryness in my throat. Several figures stand in defensive positions around the arena’s displaced sand, looking tense and wary. I meet the blue eyes of the head of the college that has pushed his way to the front. He looks like he’s seen better days, white blond hair in disarray, clothing askew, a tiredness to his face that I’ve never seen. And like the awkward turtle that I am, I say the first stupid thing that comes to mind.

 

“Hey, when did you guys get here?” I joke before I feel the floor fall out from under me for the second time and solid, cool arms lifting me up. 

  
  


I wake up to the sound of arguing. Surprise, surprise. There is a sweaty, pimple faced healer crouched over me wearing glasses and the green hues of his class over his scrawny figure. He looks terrified. Odd. Blearily I blink up at him and then roll my head to the side only to get an eyeful of a very malicious looking Sans. He’s holding me again, this time in his lap while the healer pours his itchy magic into my shoulder. Poor kid looks like he is about to shit himself with the big monster looming over him and watching his every move.

 

“Ow.” I state weakly and his white pinprick eyes dart to my face in relief. 

 

“mornin’ dollface,” He rumbles, trying to be soothing but I can feel his unease in my chest like chips of ice.  I smile up at him. 

 

“Stop scaring the doc. I don’t want to end up missing any parts because his hands are shaking so much,” I tease and Sans sighs, easing back on the unmoving creepy glare of doom he had been fixing on the healer. 

 

“I-I would never mess up like that!” The teen protests with a frown, clearly not getting the joke. He is mousy looking with thin auburn hair and tired hazel eyes. My injuries had been large and for a single healer, especially a young one, it would take a fair bit of work. Normally they worked in groups. 

 

“I know. I am just playing with you,” I reply to him reassuringly and he flushes red, pale freckles standing out even more. 

“Oh. I knew that,” He lies and my smile grows. Suuure. My shoulder feels tight and itchy and throbs with a steady pain, but nothing serious. Gingerly, I sit up, trying my best to ignore how close I am to a certain skeleton and the eyes that haven’t left me. With a jolt, my eyes settle on one of those giant dragon skulls that is floating mere feet from us, mouth open at the ready. 

 

Slowly, I turn to look up at Sans with a raised eyebrow and he shrugs. Clearly, I’ve missed some excitement. No wonder the poor kid was losing his shit. I glance about the arena. Sans had taken a seat on one of the stone benches and save for the healer, there was no one within close proximity to us. It looks like most of the students have been sent away. I turn my attention to the group of administrators clustered several meters away. The are bickering and fighting like a bunch of children. Can’t say that I fully blame them. I would be losing my shit too over the stuff I’d just pulled.

My robes are trashed. Stained with blood and sand, shredded and charred black in places; they are a tangled mess around me and a good chunk has been cut from the top around the wound. I still feel like total garbage and I am fairly sure that the room isn’t supposed to be fuzzy around the edges but I shake myself out of it as best I can. We are in hot water still and I can’t let myself stay unconscious without knowing that Sans is safe. The wound on my shoulder is red and irritated, but mostly sealed over with clots. Good enough for now, I muse and I smile at the healer, despite the aches all over.

 

“Thanks, Doc, think I am good for now. Don’t want both of us to be wasted, do we?” I tell the shaky young man who blinks up at me and then glances unsurely up at the big monster. 

 

“don’t  fibula, dollface, that isn’t healed enough,” Sans growls low and the vibrations of his voice roll through me because of how tight he has me pressed into his chest.  I snort out a dry laugh.

 

“Hey now, just because you didn’t pull any punches on me, doesn’t mean you can take it out of the Doc, Big Guy,” I reply with a raised eyebrow and a pointed glare. Sans has the sense to look a little apologetic and I pat his big hand reassuringly with my good one and he huffs softly. I add softly,” besides, we don’t want to hurt his familiar by making him work too hard, do we?” 

 

Sans froze then, eyes dimming slightly before he nodded once and returned his stare to the people clustered a ways off. 

 

“T-thank you,” The teen murmured before retreating to his mentors that waited unhappily nearby.  I curl my fingers around Sans’ thick index finger, feeling even more like a small child next to him. My hand looks so tiny. 

 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” I murmur, ducking my head shyly to hide the heat rushing to my cheeks at the thought of the monster keeping me safe, catching me not once, but twice. It was embarrassing as all hell. He’d seen my best and worst in a space of a few hours and still was looking out for me. He must think I am helpless, if not a bit of a pushover. A warm, firm hand curls around mine. A malleable bone thumb smoothes gently over the back of my hand and that flutter in my chest is back all over again, nerve endings lighting up like fireworks and the press of that thrumming soul in my chest goes up a few notches of intensity, pulling a gasp from me. 

 

“far as I can tell, lookin’ out for your well being is looking out for mine too, Doll,” He stated with a shrug. That made sense. I have his soul and I am the only ally he has. Of course he’d want to keep me alive. The practicality about it was a bit sobering in the wake of the odd feelings he was causing me, but it didn’t lessen my gratitude any. 

 

“Still, I appreciate it, Sans,” I reiterated and he nodded, not taking his eyes from the administrators, though his face had colored a faint blue when I glanced back up at him. I followed his stare and my smile slipped away. They were watching us now. Oh goodie. The big floating skull hovered closer to us, it’s huge eyes glowing yellow as it growled in a deep drone. Unable to help my curiosity, I reached a hand out and pressed it lightly to the thing’s side. It froze. No growl, no movement, save for its irises darting over to watch me with all of the scrutiny of an owl watching a mouse. Sans sat there in shock, I think. 

 

“Hey, bonehead, calm down,” I state, feeling nerves skitter over me at the menacing look it had about it. It let out an ear splitting screech that had my head hammering with pain that fueled my anger, “ HEY! Don’t sass me! Behave!”

 

It froze again, and I ran my fingers over its warm, smooth snout in a light pet. A hesitant warble burbled up from the big creature and it seemed to ease down under the attention. A small smile tugged at my lips. 

 

“Good… um..Skull thing,” I praised it and the creature warbled again, pressing closer for more attention. My body shook from the quiet chuckles of the skeleton behind me. 

 

“skull thing?” Sans asked with a raised brow. I scratched the skull’s elongated jaw and it tilted in the air a bit like an overgrown cat , eyes closing in a content expression that pulls a startled giggle from my lips. The thing is weird and cool and I think I am in love. 

 

“Well, what do you call it?” I asked with a pout at his teasing. 

 

“Gaster Blaster,” He stated with a shrug and there was something about the name that had me frowning. Something like deja vu or the odd feeling that I had heard that name before, somewhere tickled at the back of my mind. Odd. But I can’t remember and the thought slips away like so much dust. 

 

“Well, can you please put your Blaster away, I think it’s scaring the others?” I ask with a sideways grin that has Sans letting out a bark of laughter. 

 

“awh, well it isn’t my fault they aren’t as big boned,” He chortled immaturely and it takes me a second to realize that he’s just made a dick joke and a pun at the same time. Oh. My. God. How did I end up with this!? I’m trying hard not to laugh and encourage him but it is hard. I have the maturity of a twelve year old boy on average but I manage to scrounge up an unimpressed frown. I probably look more constipated than anything else, honestly. 

 

He sighs dramatically and with a wave of his hand the creature vanishes in a shimmer. I give him a grateful smile and return my attention to the tall blond man that is striding our way. The director is an imposing looking man, at least he is at first. I know that he is actually rather sweet. His hair is long and sweeps his shoulders in soft waves of pale blond, streaked here and there with the white of age that doesn’t show on his face. He has one of those faces that never changes save for getting more handsome the more he ages. It makes him extremely difficult for me to be around, since pretty people tend to make me more than a little nervous and uncomfortable. Insecure? Me? His weary steel gray eyes watch me with a strange cocktail of reproach, concern, and apprehension. 

 

“Hey bossman,” I say and a hint of a smile quirked the corner of his mouth, though I could tell he was trying awfully hard to remain serious. He took a seat a few feet away and Sans sat stiffly, his arms tightening around me a little more, but not painfully so. I was trying very hard not to enjoy it. I was not at all thinking about how wonderful it felt to be held, even by a skeleton of all things, instead of focusing on the director of the college. Nope. I was certainly not being distracted in the least and no one was going to convince me otherwise. 

 

“Esther, I am relieved that you have woken up. You’ve had me quite worried,” The sorcerer began and my face hurt from the ironic grin that stretched it. I could feel a single brow tick up a few notches on my face as if to say: oh really? 

 

“Apparently you aren’t the only one who is ‘quite worried,’ Boss,” I said slowly, glancing past him to the tense mass of angry faces. He sighed and seemed to draw himself up.

 

“Sweetheart, you’ve put me in a precarious position, I hope that you know that,” He murmured and Sans let out a quiet rumble that had me stroking the top of his hand to try and ease the whorl of unrest that radiated from the soul in my chest. I didn’t know what exactly it was that bothered him about the director, but I knew that of anyone here, he was our only potential ally. How did I know that? I can’t say for sure but I know that I trust him. He is so very kind, even when he isn’t nice and he never does anything without the best interests of the students in mind. 

 

“I know, sir. I’m sorry to do that to you,” I answer and his smile widens. 

 

“You are sorry to do that to me but not that you broke the cardinal law of the college?” There is a mirth in his eyes that lights up his whole face in a way that is contagious and is a bit like looking at a small sun. Ah he caught that. I sobered and nodded once, very firmly. Sans twined his fingers with mine, needing the connection, to do something about the suddenly heavy, wonderful feelings that thrummed from his soul. Relief, regret, hope, admiration, a tinge of worry and something undefined that swelled between the cracks of everything else in a wave of emotion bowled me over and had me momentarily floundering for purchase. The whole of it was just so much. It dropped my head back against his sternum with a dull thunk and I focused on breathing until the feeling passed. It felt good but wow was it hard to focus. When I could breathe past the lump in my throat again, I looked back at the director.

 

“What are you experiencing? Are you in pain? Are both of you in pain? Can you share thoughts?” He was suddenly the goofy, wide eyed, puppy he usually was, looking like the only thing keeping him from bouncing in place like an overly excited fan girl was the heavyweight of his peers from the other side of the arena. He forced himself to take a breath and composed his ruined facade of serious, important, man-thing and sighed, though his eyes still shimmered with an inquisitive glee that had Sans relaxing much more than before. Thank goodness. I didn’t want him to be afraid or angry at the Director. 

 

“The others are discussing what to do with the both of you. The severity of this situation is much greater then you can realize, Esther. They are talking about putting a limiter on you and sealing him away at the very least,” His voice dropped and any measure of relief Sans might have been enjoying was gone and his frame went ridged all over again. “ I won’t let them go that far. I assure you that I am doing everything that I can to protect the both of you but you have to understand the gravity of this. A monster with the soul of a human is dangerous.”

 

“you ain’t winning any friends here, pal,” Sans drawled and the director grimaced slightly, looking apologetic.

 

“You misunderstand. We haven’t seen what the effect could be. Up until today, Esther has not exhibited any magical ability at all save for small traces, less than any Blank we have ever seen in the history of the college,” The blond man began and I felt  my face burn with shame. It was true but hearing it put so bluntly and to Sans of all people as more than a little mortifying. I wasn’t exactly proud of it all. The gray eyed man leaned forward, face more serious than I have ever seen, “ And now out of the blue, the moment that you show up here she is using the highest level magic any of us have ever documented. What do you think is going to happen if human sorcerers see that sort of power? The effect of exchanging a soul?”

 

“Wouldn’t that be good though? I ask and I can feel my face scrunching in confusion. 

 

“They would force it. And the results wouldn’t always be this good. It would be far worse than binding them to a book, for everyone,” He added and I shook my head in confusion. 

 

“What could possibly be worse than not having free will?” Is my next question and this time my tone is angry. I can’t help it. My insides are suddenly hot with a righteous indignation and a protective fury that I struggle to contain. All of the countless years of watching the listless faces of familiars numbly carrying out their master’s bidding swelled up in me until it spilled over like a too full cup. I was shaking from the force of it all and only Sans’ firm hold on me kept me from doing something rash. Something violent. I wasn’t violent. I blinked, suddenly horrified and forced myself to tone it down and relax against my partner. The director was trying to help. 

 

“If they aren’t compatible? If their magics don’t mix? It would be a never ending misery for both sides. And you know humans, Esther. We do everything for more power, more control. They would summon monsters even after having a familiar, find the strongest they can and swap souls just for the boost in strength. Every waking moment would be rape in every aspect of the word. They would tear each other apart from the inside out,” He stated and I know my own horror showed on my face because he looked pained by having to say it, “Even when the two of you meshed, there was accidental magic, powerful magic that was beyond your control. We were all very fortunate that your breed of magic is not offensive, sweetheart. If you had been an elementalist with the strength that you had put off in the arena, this place would be ash. And none of us would have been prepared for it.”

 

The realization hit me like a truck. I could have killed people. I could have killed so many people. And I would have done so ignorantly. I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood and struggled to hold back the burning in my eyes. The thought that I had killed Sans was more than I could comprehend on it’s own. The thought of killing thousands… I couldn’t breathe! My heart thudded in my ears so much that I couldn’t hear the director even though I could read my name on his lips and the concern on his face. Why couldn’t I hear? Why couldn’t I breathe?! I felt like I was underwater, drowning in sudden terror and panic. And then there was Sans. 

 

His soft rumbling voice resonated in my mind, no my chest like a proverbial life jacket. 

 

“Dollface,” He murmured against my hair and my world narrowed to his voice, the feel of his hard body cradling mine, the pulse of his cool soul in my chest. “Breathe with me, Doll.”

 

And I did. I listened, trusted the skeleton, even though everything I had been taught about monsters screamed not to. They were dangerous, beings of magic that were unpredictable and chaotic. But that didn’t seem right. Sans was there smelling of lightning and a rich musky scent between something chalky and masculine, and he was calm, safe. I drowned myself in his coolness and nuzzled my cheek against his with a soft, weak sound that was something tormented in my throat. 

 

“she wouldn’t have hurt anyone,” He said aloud and I blinked back unshed tears , craning my head to look up at him despite the tight ache in my shoulder from the mostly unhealed wound, “she may have pulled up the barrier unconsciously, but she did it knowing full well that it wouldn’t hurt anyone and that it would protect me.”

 

“So you can feel each other’s thoughts?” The Director asked, looking like someone had told him he could have a pony for his birthday. Sans shook his head slowly.

 

“not… exactly. i can feel what she feels, most of it. i could feel that above all else, she wanted to protect me and prevent anyone from getting hurt,” was the skeleton’s response and my face was on fire again. I ducked my head to hide behind the tangled fall of my hair. Great. Just what I needed, a monster shaped mood ring.

 

“Regardless, you do understand the concern. Esther is a very compassionate person. Not everyone else is,” The other male said. I cleared my throat, feeling odd with them talking about me like that.

 

“What happens now?” I ask and the director smiled sadly. 

 

“Now, the two of you are going to be placed in observation and we determine how safe you are and what the best course of action will be as well as the detrimental effects this is going to have on the college and the world, if they find out,” The Director answered and I swallowed and nodded shakily. “In your favor, you are a very rare talent. Barrier weavers are the rarest magicians in the world. They won’t execute you, though were you anything less, they might have.”

 

I don’t think that it hit me until that moment how deep the shit we were in was. I tightened my grip on Sans. If they killed me, he was dead too. That wasn’t fair. I wouldn’t let that happen. 

 

“You just have to prove to them that you two are in control and can be useful. Even if you are as dangerous as they think you are, proving that you have worth and can be a benefit in some way is the only thing that you need to do,” The blond added softly, a meaningful look on his features. “Co-operate with them, with us, and I will do everything that I can to keep you safe. Both of you.”

  
Numbly, I nodded. Sans was silent and as cold as I felt. What choice did we have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Getting hard to get time to sit down and work on this with work kicking my ass. QnQ I am so glad for all of the kudos and comments on this so far, it's overwhelming to see such a response! Thank all of you so very much. If I don't respond to your comments, it isn't because I don't read them. I adore all of them and will try my best to respond when I can. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> This is... I don't even know. It happened and I can't stop myself. There are references in here to flying ointments that were historically ( and modernly in many cases) used by practitioners of witchcraft. I am not a practitioner, so please forgive any inaccuracy or creative license taken with things. Thank you Fox, for giving the world your beautiful game and for causing me to fall into the trash with the rest of the filthy sinners out there. 
> 
> I hope that you all enjoy this story as much as I am enjoying writing it all! This is my first venture into the Undertale writing world so we will see how it goes. Let me know what you think. And do forgive the tense errors. I am still trying to get used to the first person bullcrap. I think it hates me. x[


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